


Learning To Relax

by Jupiterra



Series: Heart Of Hearing Universe [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Complete, F/M, Falling In Love, Gerita is Main Focus, Grandfather Germany, Great Uncle Italy, M/M, More Like Walking, Retirement, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: An aged Ludwig is forced into an unwilling retirement. Will he adjust to his new lifestyle, or die inside?
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia), Belgium/South Italy (Hetalia), Denmark/Germany (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Heart Of Hearing Universe [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196768
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be read after New In-Laws.

The betrayal began on March the 16th. The weather was lousy, howling wind and sharp snowflakes abound. These days Ludwig found himself thinner than ever, but not to the point of concern. The side effect of accidental fitness was minimal cold resistance. It took a less than charming sweater vest to finally feel comfortable in his secluded office.

Once upon a time, the corporate accountant was on the top floor of the regional BMW building. He was among the stars of number crunchers, tackling expenses for all of the Kitchener and Waterloo region. He was proud to be part of a German company, true to his heritage.

Ludwig was now 65, a relic on the second floor in accounts managing. He was the oldest person here by a very long range. He was the only one in the building that knew what VHS tapes were. Once spry and eager to work, he was now considered traditionalist and rigid.

Was it grey thinning hair that turned the world against him? Ludwig couldn’t help that. His arthritis was a product of time, beginning to hurt more these days. Perhaps it was the army of family photos that pissed off his superiors?

His oldest son Claude had twin sons, turning seven this year. They were rowdy soccer fans that warmed Ludwig’s heart. Ivan, fostered by the family for years, had adopted a small pack of children with his life partner Alfred. Ivan and all four of his children visited constantly. His daughter Leanne was scattered in the chaos, with one baby. There were sparing photos of Laurence, Ludwig’s youngest son. The two rarely saw eye to eye on anything, but Laurence’s husband was kind enough to stay in touch and send fresh pictures. Ludwig was arrogantly proud of only two things in his life. His babies, and his accounting history’s accuracy.

Lastly, there was an army of dog pictures. Every dog he ever owned was honored and remembered. Since the German fully believed in pack mentality, he always adopted three or more in groups. This resulted in seventeen dogs on the wall of his office. No one was taking down his goddamn pictures.

Two hours into another day of filing and form entries, a younger co-worker approached. “Ben.” Ludwig grunted in greeting, typing away.

“Did you hear about the party?”

“No.” Some people would call Ludwig salty, or a poor sport. He hated big parties and always had. Of course he had heard of the upcoming retirement party. There were only three people it could be for, and Ludwig was hoping to dear god it wasn’t him.

“You are going, right?” The other male prompted, as forgettable as his pasty white face.

Ludwig leaned back in his chair and feigned niceties. In his age, he was finding himself tired of the diplomacy game. He played it to save face, essential skills in the corporate structure. Wearing a wane smile, he spoke warmly. “Oh I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s not everyday someone retires.”

The party loomed closer, only four days later. With no dogs left at home for company, Ludwig had no excuses to avoid social gatherings. He had taken up scrap-booking to commemorate his many fallen canine friends. He finished all the kid’s pictures, half the grand kids, and started a tome just for his dogs.

It was hours before the party now, time falling away on him. Ludwig was cleaned up in a nice black suit, scrapbooking to distract himself down stairs. Old music played on the aging mp3 speaker, warbling sounds of happy memories. They were classic hits forty years ago when Ludwig first met his wife. Their marriage had been short lived and ended brutally. In all honesty, it turned Ludwig off from dating for the rest of his life. The music of that era was still pleasant though.

Humming along, his photo arranging serenity was broken by a timer. He had set one on his phone, forgetful sometimes. It was time to march back into social hell. He had a sick feeling the party was for him. 

With Laurence reluctantly assisting, Ludwig had anticipated great changes. His will was updated. His pension applications were ready to be filed. The problem was the German-Canadian himself. Ludwig wasn’t ready to retire. He was a star pupil in school, graduating earlier than most. He had worked at the same company for thirty years. He no longer knew life beyond his children’s homes or a desk.

Holidays? Hobbies? Time off? How in god’s name could anyone ever fill entire days with this nonsense? Where was the purpose and drive to do better? Taking an arthritis pill, Ludwig forced himself to leave his massive home. It used to have three adopted kids and a brother in it, but now it was a museum to time.

Ludwig arrived at the rented bar with apprehension. He was a little late, perhaps on purpose. With one last inhale of cold winter air, he walked in the establishment. It was just as horrendous as he imagined. Excessive drinking, noise, and chatter flooded the building. Ludwig could barely find a spot to sit, hiding away in a shady corner. Through the sea of ties and powersuits, a vision of doom appeared.

Hanging above the band stage was a massive black and gold banner that read “Thanks For Everything! Happy Retirement!” Ludwig’s picture was hung on either side, somewhat crookedly. This was real. This was the end of everything he took routine and comfort in.

The shock of it numbed him to the celebratory people around him. Food tasted like ash, Drink like sour water. There was nothing to soothe him in this calamity, yet he had to pretend he was happy. Ludwig tried, he really did. He cracked a few trademark dad jokes. He pretended to drink beer. He nibbled on overly salty party snacks.

Finally, the boss came over. Mr. Zimmermann was ruthless efficiency and diligence, true German virtues. Years ago, Ludwig had been this powerful figure’s right hand. There was no place Mr. Zimmermann went that Ludwig didn’t follow. Now they passed each other in the halls maybe twice a week. How the mighty had fallen so quickly.

“Mr. Beilschmidt. You did attend.” The other greeted, to the point as always.

“Yes, Sir.” Ludwig all but saluted him in respect.

“This is from the company. We are truly thankful for your thirty years of service.” A gold watch was placed in Ludwig’s hands. A watch? That was all they did after he gave up half his life? Ludwig flipped it over, expecting engraving or something underneath. It was a plain gold watch in a case, like the seven others he had seen handed out before.

The company didn’t care about him at all.

Seeing through Ludwig’s mask like glass, Mr. Zimmermann was quick to comment. “Have fun, this party is for you.” The stern younger man advised sharply.

Ludwig nodded, soon melting into bar shadows. He left the party early, a frozen crust of neutrality over… something. He was not in touch with his feelings very often. For the longest time, he laid the gold watch out on the kitchen. It was an insult, and he could barely stand to look at it. Living alone in a five bedroom house, there was plenty to do.

Five days of work remained. Ludwig finally took the watch out of packaging.

Four days of work remained. He finally tried the gaudy timepiece on. It was entirely not his style.

Three days were left before oblivion. The German now hated the watch, glaring at it where it lay. He had thrown it at the wall in a fit of anger. There was now a taunting crack in the display.

Two days left of work, and Ludwig’s denial was starting to break. He blamed all these awful feelings on Mr. Zimmermann, the watch, and any celebrity on TV. This was all someone’s fault, and this made the grey haired man feel slightly better.

At the end of the last day, He carried all his pictures to the car. There was little to no fanfare, not that he wanted any. His office was cleared of all personal effects, all impending work finished. The heavy truth sank in as he drove, but it would be days before he grasped it.

Driven to work on anything, Ludwig filled his old work schedule times with new activities. He couldn’t stop waiting up at 5:30 on the dot. He habitually dressed in a suit every morning, only to take it off and hang it up. He kept packing the same lunch he had eaten for thirty years, only to disassemble it and return the food to the fridge.

Morning walks, scrap-booking, cleaning the house, making small domestic repairs. Anything and everything was considered to kill the crushing boredom. He babysat piles of grandchildren in the evenings.

The truth would not stop haunting him for two weeks. It finally delivered it’s last blow, after early morning coffee. Ludwig was dressed with nowhere to go. It was just the empty house, him, and that stupid watch.

He tried to sell it, but it was worthless with a crack in the glass. The watch was a metaphor of Ludwig himself. Once a precious commodity, it was now obsolete and useless. Ugly feelings came to the surface again. Anger, self pity, Hate, frustration. They all bubbled under his stony exterior dangerously.   
  
With shaky arthritic fingers, a hammer was retrieved from the closet. Ludwig needed to say certain things, ire words burning in his head for months.

“Fuck you Zimmermann! You abandoned me for a younger protege!” The hammer struck the stupid watch.

“Shut up Ben! No one cares about your poker games!”

“How dare you abandon me to this nothingness!”

“I am an asset to BMW!”

Again and again, the bottled up grandfather screamed hatred fueled complaints, beating the watch to a gold mangled mess. Exhausted from the toxic expulsions, he rested in his favourite living room chair. The hammer was set down, a last terrible emotion manifesting.

Crushing loneliness, years of it held back by family, dogs, and work. The sad gaping pit called his love life swallowed him whole. Ludwig finally cried for the first time in years, drowning in the most smothering loneliness he had ever known.


	2. Chapter 2

Ivan entered the spotless property with a soft squeak of door hinges. The house was inhumanly clean, which was weird. Mr. Beilschmidt must have gone crazy with boredom and dusted. When Mr. Beilschmidt did anything, it was to the very end.

It was 8 in the morning and the foster parent was not buzzing around with some new task.

That was something that went against everything Mr. B stood for. The second he was not working, he was lavishing his family with little projects and attention. Alfred, gloriously loud and handsome, strolled into the place. He carried baby Alexei in one arm, a Hollywood masterpiece of fatherhood. Of course, the two month old baby boy was swaddled in a warm gucci blanket.

“This place is spooky clean! Isn’t there like, dog hair usually stuck to something?”

Ivan pinched his loving husband, shaking his head in disdain. “You know Strausel died years ago.” Strausel had been a good weiner dog, living well into it’s teens. Mr. B without a dog was a sight to pity, but he was silently struggling with arthritis. He couldn’t manage running off after a new batch of puppies.

“Well, He must be out then. It’s crazy quiet here.” Alfred glanced around curiously. Baby Alexei looked around with wide unfocused eyes, gurgling. The helpless child was a heart stealer doing nothing at all.

“You wanna look upstairs with daddy and papa? Yes you do!” Alfred crooned to his offspring, taking two steps at a time. Ivan followed, branching off after as they tackled rooms. There were five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and an office to investigate.

Alfred was probably snooping around, so Ivan hit the obvious places. He was right to do so, finding Mr. Beilschmidt. The man was a lump in bed, clutching a framed photo to his chest. He looked ready to cry, which was surprising. Mr. B never ever cried, even when his hand accidentally got stapled one Christmas.

“Mr. B. Hey, It’s been a while since you answered your phone.” Ivan whispered in greeting, inching close.

The parent sniffled, setting the professional portrait of his departed daschunds aside. Of course he was crying over his dead dog collection  _ again _ . “Hello Ivy, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“How long have you been crying over puppies?” Ivan pressed on, recognizing the signs of joint pain instantly. The parent of sorts was too stubborn to ask for help, so Ivan learned to stop asking. All the Beilschmidt family was rock headed about needing help,  _ especially _ Lars.

“I’m not crying,” Mr. B argued childishly, dabbing his eyes dry with the blanket.

Alfred arrived, perking up at seeing Mr. B. “Hey man! Look who came to say hello!” At this, the baby was partially freed of its designer blanket. Placed in Mr. B’s arms, the baby gurgled and grappled bigger fingers unsuccessfully.

“Little love bug, yes you are. Who’s so very cute?” Mr. Beilschmidt gushed affection in German, so very gentle as he held the bundle of love. The baby smiled, instantly cheering him up. Ivan knew his scheme would work.

Helping a sore Mr. B sit up, Ivan handed him his arthritis pills and a glass of water. The man took it instantly, giving no opportunity for refusal. Ah, so he got himself stuck in bed. He was probably laid here for ages, waiting for things to become manageable.

Wielding Alexei like a mind weapon, Ivan got to the point of this visit. Only the baby’s maximum cuteness could convince a party hater to attend a large gathering about him. Mr. B had only been retired a few months and he was losing his mind. He needed constant community and structure or he started shutting down. “The whole family is having a barbecue this weekend. We want you to come.”

“ _ Everyone _ , even Leanne? Louise can’t be more than 3 months,” The bedridden man balked, disbelieving. It was true, Leanne’s baby was pretty fresh out of the oven. The little girl was probably going to be an exotic blend of green eyes and Italian tan. She would be stunning as an adult.

“She needs adult time, so I said our babies can like… wriggle near each other or something.” Alfred explained casually, looking tired beneath his own make up and styling product.

“Fedya has been a great dad lately. He took time off to help with Alexei.” Ivan was so arrogantly proud of his long time partner. Maybe Alfred’s latest indie film was struggling to get off the ground. Time off sounded better.

“Well, if I get to see more of  _ you _ , little sunshine, I suppose I can go.” The grandfather finally bent to the baby’s will. Mr. B was forever weak to little ones. Now the trap was set.


	3. Chapter 3

The barbeque was so innocent at first. It took place on a Sunday, when everyone was available. Baby Louise and Alexei looked confused from their shaded carriers, helpless as the older people fawned over them. Peter, or Pyotr as Ivan insisted, ran around screaming his head off with five other kids. Most of the wild pack was adopted by Ivan and Alfred, obviously plucked from Russian orphanages.

While more active parents tried to herd the madness, Gilbert and Ludwig admired the babies. Due to both of them being riddled with arthritis, this was the only thing they could do. For once, Alfred’s father was present at the party. His louder half would have been in attendance, but was dramatically struggling with a cold at home.

“Look who it is! It’s me, Gilbert. Can you say Gilbert? Can you say Gilbert is better than Ludwig?” The enthusiastic albino brother cradled baby Louise, poking her chubby cheeks.

The baby grabbed his pale fingers, making a random happy noise.

“That’s right, I am better.”

Ludwig admired the delicate infant from afar. “Clearly she said I am better.” Ludwig and Gilbert were still brothers in their age, quietly fighting over nothing. In rowdier decades Ludwig would accentuate this with a shoulder push. Today he wasn’t in the mood, joints miserable.

“So where are the lucky parents?” Arthur asked, nibbling filler party food. Alexei was getting pretty good at recognizing his people, making an effort to reach for them. The English grandfather was flattered, letting the baby uselessly grip his hand.

“Over there,” Ludwig gestured roughly behind his plastic patio chair. Sure enough, Lorenzo and Leanne were passed out cold on folding loungers. Someone had left sunblock mustaches on both of them as they slept like the dead.

“Looks about right,” Arthur hummed.

“Have you been a little monster? Are you stealing sleep?” Gilbert cooed to the baby in his arms. Louise gurgled laughter and wiggled a little, happy.

“I don’t know what drugs you take, but you seem good today.” Ludwig was jealous as he spoke. It had been a huge effort to attend without loading up on painkillers, but they were not good for his liver.

“Oh bruder, are you all seized up? I have the best stuff. I know a guy, this funky Italian. I met him through Romulus. You know, Lorenzo’s dad.” Showing off his newfound mobility, Gilbert handed Ludwig a small container from his left pocket.

Ludwig took the item curiously, looking it over. “How could I forget him? He said he fought a bear while camping and won.”

“He probably did. He’s totally awesome. He has swinger parties once a month but ah… He has fun,” Gilbert diverted the uncomfortable topic. The rambunctious sibling had slept around during his army career, unknowingly catching HIV somewhere in the far east. It was pure dumb luck Gilbert found a husband that was also HIV positive decades ago.

“So you gave me mysterious skin cream from a guy that hosts orgies,” Ludwig summarized the conversation smartly.

“Don’t question my methods. I can walk up stairs now,” Gilbert shushed him. Going up stairs without taking an age, that would be nice. Assured for obvious reasons that this was a fresh pack, Ludwig accepted the questionable goods. He would perhaps try some later.

It seemed the awake adults converged at the folding table. Alfred served a plethora of grilled meats, while Ivan set up a nearby kids table.

“NATASHA, PETER, SERGEI! FOOD!” Ivan screeched like a demon, reaching the ears of all his sugar fueled children. Baby Alexei perked up, visually tracking a hot dog that passed by. All three children, from three to five years old, bounded with joy to the meal. Gabriel and Fernando, obviously the product of Claude’s Brazilian husband Paolo, followed behind while fighting viciously over a soccer ball.

Paolo, as blessed and tan as ever, flicked them for being tiny morons. “Now boys. Games after dinner.” Claude was looking sleepy in a nearby lawn chair, awake purely due to afternoon coffee. He still looked dazzling despite his condition, in smart clothes.

Burgers and grilled chicken on buns was served. Potato salad, pickles, and diced fruit was available. It was a happy time of feasting, chatting, and insulting respective siblings. Alfred, forever the loudest one, was the first to drop the verbal bomb.

“So are we going to talk about him selling the house or not?”

The table collectively groaned. “We were breaking it to him gently, boy,” Arthur snarled.

This was a setup from the start. Severely annoyed and disappointed, Ludwig brooded in his seat. He would have left by now if he wasn’t aching so much. “I’m not selling my house.”

_“It’s too much house for one guy.”  
  
“The stairs are nuts there.”   
  
“Don’t you want to live somewhere with more support services or community?” _

The table conspired against Ludwig, picking away at his defenses like vultures. He wouldn’t stand for such nonsense. Forcing himself to painfully leave his chair, Ludwig shut down all conversation. “I will not sell my house full of memories and love to be shoved in a sad box. Good day to all of you.”

“But bruder…” Gilbert tried again, more stubborn than god.

“ _Good day_ ,” Ludwig hissed, walking to the car.

Later that evening, Ludwig sulked on the couch at home. He would have taken a nap upstairs, but he didn’t have it in him to tackle stairs. He eyed the medicated cream on the table, then finally caved. It was a tiny white container, labelled ‘Sativa 40%’. Unsure what Sativa even was, Ludwig assumed it was a medication type or sporty name.

Recalling his brother’s instructions, the grey haired man only used a small dab. He rolled up his slacks and rubbed the cream into knobby knees. He probably needed to put on a little weight, just to fill out slightly.

Doubtful this was more than glorified moisturizer, Ludwig relaxed and watched TV. The effects went ignored until thirty minutes into a dog documentary. Without thinking about it, he stood to fetch snacks. He stood with considerably less pain than usual.

In wonder, he bent his knees. There was nothing, not even a twinge. Grinning in genuine delight, he proceeded to treat everything else that pinched and complained. Oh, the world would now fear a fully moving Ludwig. 

Three hours after the BBQ was bailed, a persistent Gilbert popped up at the door. “Ludwig!” He called out, letting himself in.

 _“Go away. I’m still mad at you,”_ the younger brother prickled, currently icing a layer cake in the kitchen. He had been dying for a proper black forest cake since Leanne taught him the recipe. With his pain at bay, the cake could now be created.

“Bruder! They meant well. No one likes to see you struggle with -- _OH CAKE!_ ” Gilbert was instantly distracted. Actually wearing his glasses for once, he spotted the cake from across the kitchen.

“No cake for you.” Ludwig huffed, stubborn to a fault.  
  
“But… _Cake._ ”

“No! No cake for you! Stop it!” Ludwig pushed off his asshole big brother’s attack.

Gilbert wanted cake, stopping for nothing. “I’ll disease the cake. I’ll disease the hell out of it.” He would do it too. He was just as petty and unmoved as Ludwig.

There was a classic staring contest between them, but Ludwig lost. “Fine. A corner piece.”

“Yay! Cake.” Gilbert plopped into a chair and patiently waited for a serving. Once both German Canadians were half done with the delicious dessert, ugly topics re-emerged.

“You should sell the house.”

Ludwig bristled at the suggestion, still mad at his family for tricking him. “I gave you cake, and you insult me.”

The older brother would not relent. “Think about it. You are one man living in a five bedroom house.”

“A house of love and memories. I’m not throwing away my life’s work,” Ludwig argued right back.

“Remember what you told me before I was shipped off to military school?” Gilbert changed the subject only slightly, but it was welcome.

“No,” The other snipped, still pissy.

“You said that I wasn’t leaving home behind. I was taking it with me. Home is where you’re happy. Remember that?”

Ludwig shook his head, not sure where this was going.

“Is living alone in a giant house with nothing but dead dog pictures making you happy?”

At this, the younger brother genuinely didn’t have an immediate response. He hadn’t looked at his situation that way. “I’m… I’m _fine_ here.”

“Lying is not awesome,” Gilbert tutted him, wagging a finger. He stood to leave, leaving his younger brother to mull over large decisions. Only after did he notice the cake was missing.

“GILBERT!” was heard through the house as the Albino got away with sugar bounty.


	4. Chapter 4

Lars genuinely hated his adoptive home. It wasn’t the house’s fault. It was just a building with fancy wood trim. It was Mr. B’s fault, decades of chores and nagging staining memories. No good came from visiting this place, at least for the youngest son of the family.

He was the only one with enough brain cells to manage proper finances. He was the only one that remembered where Leanne lost her things. Lars felt like the only sane member of the family most days. The most sane thing he could do was not return to this place, yet he was being driven here.

Lars’s husband, Matthew, was driving. Despite being an occasional speed demon, his record was spotless and accident free. Lars was confident nothing bad would happen, unlike when  _ he _ drove. Lars still couldn’t do so much as start the car without head trauma memories shocking his system. Thirteen years had passed since the accident, and nothing had changed at all.

They parked the car at Mr. B’s house of doom, but Lars was reluctant to get out. Matthew reached back and made sure the guide dog’s harness was on straight, fussing over the newest family member.

‘The talk seems important. Is Mr. B sick?’ Matthew asked in ASL, unsure why they were invited over so urgently. It wasn’t often the stern parent required full attendance of his kin. Yes, even  _ Laurence  _ had to turn up, much to the other man's chagrin.

Lars could only roll his shoulders in a shrugging motion before hobbling out of the car. God, he  _ longed _ to travel without the cane. There was probably going to be a lot of walking today, grabbing the cane from the backseat of the car.

Maxine, Lars’s newest guide dog, hopped out with a happy smile. She was only a year old and freshly acquired. The glossy black labrador had already stolen Lars’s heart. She gave Lars a lick then sat and waited to serve in the driveway.

Forcing himself down to crouch, Lars checked the harness of his newest guide dog. He gave her a good ear scratch in the process. Once he was sure it was secure, he gently pulled on the leash.

"See you later?" He asked Matthew, hoping 'later' would come soon. He didn't like being back home again. He could only guess why he was called out here today. Probably, he was going to get told off again for not having a kid all these years later. That constant argument was exhausting.

Matthew was also anxious, in his own sort of way. He did almost everything with Lars, and dumping him off at stress central alone seemed unwise. ‘If anything happens, I can come get you,’ Matthew promised this sincerely. He leaned over and squeezed a hand from the driver’s side, sweet as ever.

‘I hope it’s nothing too serious…’ Lars signed back, although there was a feeling of trepidation creeping up on him as he watched Matthew pull away and leave him in the driveway. There was nothing else to it. Sighing, he squared his shoulders and went into the house.

Oh, fuck this house. Fuck the German wood art. Fuck the cutesy country wreath on the door in the middle of June. Who the hell had a wreath up in summer? Amidst Lars’s internal bitching and fuming, he entered the lair. There was a pile of shoes not even remotely in the shoe rack. This meant he was the last one here.

Ivan, dressed as his own gender for once, was immediately visible from the foyer. Only he would wear a purple long sleeve shirt and lilac fashion scarf. The dog alerted Lars to the world of noise in the kitchen, roughly signalling with her body and a wet nose. This was the first time she was here after all.

Leanne in a cat patterned dress was here. Claude, looking like a fashionable hipster, sat beside her. Baby Louise was with Leanne today, strapped to the tired mother in a fabric wrap. Mr. B was at the table as well, looking… really old today. There was no better way to put it. Father Time had really taken the ugly stick to the workaholic’s body.

Lars therefore announced his presence by slipping into an empty seat at the table, before sliding the chair across the floor as roughly as he could manage. He knew that the sound of wood scraping across the floor would draw attention to him, judging by the way that people would turn and stare at him the moment they pinpointed where the source of the noise came from. Either way… he was here. And he was hoping that this would be done as quickly as possible.

‘Hi Lars,’ Leanne wrote in greeting, as did everyone else. They were entirely aware he scraped the chair like a child.

Ivan was apparently rocking the eyeliner today too. It worked well for him. ‘Why are we here?’ he sign language and verbal spoke. He had picked up the language after many excruciating miscommunications. Being tri-lingual also gave him a promotion at the hospital.

‘I have no idea, honestly,’ he replied in Ivan’s direction.  _ Thankfully  _ there was someone who knew sign language, so he wasn’t going to get lost in the world of noise around him. Maxine lay at his feet, dozing off once the noise had quieted down. ‘What’s wrong with  _ him _ ?’ he added a few moments later, tilting his head in Mr. B’s direction. ‘Why’d he call all of us out here today?’

Ivan shrugged, acting as part of the multi stage translation to the group. ‘I’ll text what Dad says.’ Leanne wrote on the provided white board. Everyone was confident she could do that job. She was a phone junkie only pulled away by baby or work.

Mr. B proceeded to talk, but Lars didn’t hear a thing. Not even lip reading helped much. A few seconds later he got the Leanne version, phone vibrating once. ‘Dad says he’s old and can’t take care of the house anymore.’

He wanted to say something scathing, but decided not to. Looking at the deplorable old man before him, Lars could only sigh. ‘What’s he going to do about it?’ he asked, hoping Ivan was fast enough to catch him signing this one-handed. His left hand was giving him problems again today, and so he had to bear doing everything with his right hand. 

Ivan was his usual curtness, obviously trying to listen. ‘Don’t know yet.’ A few minutes later, all the kids knew Mr. B was unusually long winded and reluctant. This was news he  _ really _ didn’t like sharing.

Claude spoke with silent lips, pushing things along. Finally Leanne texted new information. ‘He’s moving somewhere smaller with services. He wants to give one of us the house.’ Everyone was shocked at the news. The family as a whole was certain the stubborn German would die in this giant tomb.

‘So who wants it?’ he asked nonchalantly, looking from his siblings, to Ivan. Surely at least  _ one  _ of them was willing to take the house, right? Otherwise, this was going to be a nightmare of paperwork to deal with.

There were avoidant looks and other waffling expressions. ‘I already have a house.’ Ivan spoke and signed first. House, and movie studio he meant. Alfred had shot entire scenes for films in set rooms there.

Claude wrote on the white board. ‘I travel too much. The property would rot.’

Leanne spoke and texted in loose tandem. ‘I like my house. I finally got all the cat bridges installed.’ With this, four sets of eyes locked on Lars.  _ Oh no _ .

‘Why are you all looking at me like that?’ Lars signed, and spoke at the same time. He didn’t care if there was cringing around the table, because fuck volume control. Honestly, that was stupid. ‘What?’ he added in sign language a few moments later, sweating like a criminal on trial.

Mr. B looked at Lars just as he always had, like the son was a bratty child. He then wrote with consideration and care. It made the writing just barely legible. ‘I really want the house to stay in the family. You’re the only one left without property.’

‘Excuse me? We have an apartment downtown!’ Lars signed back hotly. Oh, he was  _ not  _ in the mood for an argument today. 

‘Oh come on.’ The message was from almost everyone, eye rolling at the delayed replies. ‘You are drowning in Matthew’s books.’ Ivan added in ASL.

‘I already put my foot down on his hoarding problem! We already moved all the duplicates out!’ he argued back fiercely. Boy, he was _definitely_ _not_ in the mood to argue today. He did not take the eye rolling too well, either.

‘It’s a free house, Lars.  _ Free _ ,’ Claude looked exasperated as he wrote.   
  
Mr. B smiled slightly, saying something. Whatever it was, it was disgusting and emotional. Lars knew this because Ivan teared up dramatically and moved chairs to hug his foster father of sorts. Oh god, speeches. Lars was happy he was deaf, if only for avoiding these.

Each kid got a mushy speech, visibly affected somehow. Finally, Mr. B’s steel blue gaze settled on Lars. With such shitty writing, the old man had Ivan translate instead. Ivan was a drama queen mess but managed to fulfill the service.

‘He says he loves you and all these really nice things. He knows you’re probably messing with him, but he doesn’t care. He knows you’ll make the right choice. It’s just the sweetest speech I’ve ever heard. Lars, he’s the most wonderful --”

Lars looked away. He didn’t want to see it anymore.

He was very much ready to bail from the kitchen, and the entire conversation altogether. He didn’t need any mushy shit coming from the man who nearly killed them all with root crop poisoning! Sometimes, although he was loathe to admit it, he was secretly thankful he was deaf. He didn’t want to hear any of what the German was telling him. Hell, where was uncle Gilbert anyway? Why wasn’t the cool uncle here?!

The entire room seemed to be in on some fact Lars was missing. This meeting of kin was ended swiftly with a simple message from Mr. B via white board. ‘I’ve said what I had to say. I’m parting with most of my things here. Everyone please think about what you want.’

More silent words were exchanged as people began to leave the table. From lip reading, there was chatter of going out for a cutesy family brunch deal. Ivan was already turning to inform Lars, letters forming.

'So nobody at all wants the house, then?' He said in Ivan's direction. True, he was pretty content with the apartment they had downtown. Even if it was just Matthew and Maxine, the place was big enough for them… or was it, now? The more he looked at it, the more he realized that the infernal book collection was spilling out of the room where it was supposed to be contained. The apartment doors needed constant replacing. There was also the  _ very real danger _ of Matthew finding his ramen stash…

Mr. B knew. That treacherous parent of conflicting emotions knew Lars was considering the offer. It was a free house worth over a million dollars. ‘Brunch with us?’ Ivan offered lazily.

'Mattie's waiting for me,' was what Lars replied. It was  _ true  _ to some extent. Quickly fishing out his phone, he texted a shorthand message to Matthew asking the other to come by and pick him up. The family meeting had gone reasonably well?

Lars’s ride was back in minutes.

Matthew rarely went far. All family meetings with Lars were typically short and argumentative. The wheaten blonde was hardly concerned though. All he had to do was walk into the room and kiss Lars senseless. That neutralized the short-tempered cutie in seconds.

Pulling up in the car, Matthew was surprised to see neutrality in Lars. He didn’t look angry at all! Things must have gone really well for once. Maxine wagged her tail like a happy idiot upon seeing Matthew. He was the food guy after all.

'We have to talk,' he began the moment Matthew was close enough.

‘Oh my god, Mr. B is dying, isn’t he?’ Matthew instantly replied, worried as he parked.

'Him?  _ Hell no _ . He's moving to a smaller place. Senior's community or some shit like that. But, uh…' Lars hesitated, wondering how the fuck he was going to bring up the topic. It made him so prickly just…  _ thinking _ about it.

Matthew waited patiently, watching with gentle eyes. He knew Lars was sometimes shit with words.

'He doesn't want to sell the house,' Lars prefaced as he helped Maxine get in the back of the car. 'He called all of us over to talk about it.'

‘So who’s taking it?’ Matthew was fast to catch on.

'Ivan said he already has a house. Douche bag Claude  _ travels too much,' _ Lars interrupted himself to give the mention of his eldest sibling the most pointed eye roll he could muster before continuing. '...and Leanne apparently lives in a cat pound now, and refuses to move out,' he went on while shaking his head.

Clearly he was implying  _ something _ .

Matthew bit his lip and looked away with tented fingers. He then glanced at Lars. ‘Are you sure you want the house? You were so miserable here. Just living with stressful memories and… I don’t know.’ Matthew looked at the massive property before him. ‘I’m not against the idea, but I want you to be happy wherever we live.’

'It… it wasn't the house's fault, to…  _ to be honest.  _ I mean… we did…' Lars broke off, his ears suddenly turning a brilliant shade of red as words failed him.

Matthew smiled at the memory of taking Lars’s virginity, blushing fiercely. ‘We um… did make memories here.’

'It… really wasn't the house's fault, really,' he agreed a few moments later, his ears still on fire.

‘Maybe you’d have a better spot to hide your ramen obsession.’ Matthew teased coyly.

Lars could only blink and outright stare at him, his eyes going wide in alarm.

‘Wait… how the hell did you find out about that?!’ he signed back frantically as he got into the passenger seat in the front of the car.

Matthew batted his lashes innocently, as if he wasn’t committing black mail. ‘... or so I heard, I mean a whole room for books wouldn’t be unreasonable if you say yes.’

‘Matthew! What ramen obsession are you talking about?!’ Lars attempted to backpedal, panic clearly rising on his features. He sweated like a criminal on trial now.

The angel went along with it, putting the keys in the ignition. ‘So how long are you going to tease your dad about it?’

‘I don’t know. It depends on when he stops being an ass in general first,’ was all Lars replied as he buckled himself in and prepared for the drive back to their apartment. Just  _ how  _ did Matthew find out about the ramen stash he had at their apartment?! He had to move it again, yeesh.

Matthew smiled and started driving. Lars was so adorably stubborn.


	5. Chapter 5

The house was staying in the family, and Ludwig was pleased about it. With Leanne living at Lorenzo’s place, and Claude traveling the world at his husband’s side, Laurence had been the only one financially capable and willing to take on the large property.

Of course, Laurence was a complete ass about it. It was difficult to reconcile loving his son with the actions before him. Piles of expensive furniture were hauled out by hired helpers, dumped at the roadside with a ‘FREE’ sign. Exquisite furniture, some imported from Germany, was being abandoned. When had Laurence’s savage nature become so sharp?

“We will take. Care of the property. I promise.” Matthew soothed poorly, his voice like a broken bag pipe. Despite thirteen years of training and practice, the once deaf man’s speech was awful. The shape of the vocal cords was supposedly to blame.

All the while more of Ludwig’s life was dragged out onto the lawn to die a fate unknown. A sad little noise came from the grandfather as full length mirrors were dumped carelessly on the pavement.   
  
“I promise.” Matthew repeated, cringing at more glass breaking.

Lars hobbled over on his cane, looking so proud of himself. “This place is going to look amazing Mr. B. A total repaint.”

Before adoptive father and son fought quietly over the merits of beige, a black BMW coupe pulled into the driveway. It sported gaudy white striping down the center, screaming of Gilbert. The albino himself emerged after parking, rocking black shades.

Matthias was with him in the driver's seat, wearing a print shirt with ‘Hotter Than The Sun’ on it in yellow. Gilbert too wore an ugly shirt under his leather jacket, covered in baby chickens. ‘Chicks Dig Me’ was visible in red, probably seen from space.

“Bruder! You ready? We got the house all set up.” 

Matthias waved from the car, smiling like a goof. Without the obvious age and cane in the backseat, they could be mistaken for stupid teenagers. Ludwig looked between a smug Lars and the loving idiot duo, unsure once more. He had made a mistake hadn’t he?

Before he could mire himself in doubt, Ludwig was pushed to the car by his bossy brother. “Time to embrace the now, baby bro!”

“We have to get the good times songs going!” Matthias cheered, popping a CD into the older radio. Douche bag worthy songs started blasting out of the speakers. While Ludwig loved his brother, he could never fully forgive that trash taste.

“Genius! I married a genius! This handsome bro is a ripped Einstein!” Gilbert high fived his husband, starting the car as everyone buckled in.

By the end of the drive, Ludwig was sure he had lost intelligence. He was lucky Matthias drove, since Gilbert had garbage levels of vision. Itching to get away from shitty club music, he was first out of the car. The house they parked in front of was sensible, in gentle green and blues.

“Here we are, home boring home. Ooh we have to give a tour,” Gilbert gushed, excited over anything ever.

“Glasses bro,” Matthias reminded him, putting the spectacles in unwilling hands.

Gilbert grunted but put them on. “Not even remotely cool dude.”

“House time! Did he get a Pantera Mural like Tino?” The less blind man led the way, using his cane.

“Hell no. Luddie is boring,” Gilbert tagged along as Ludwig absorbed his new surroundings.

The property managers had fit every demand to a fine point. The wood work was cozy with warm walls. Soft pillows and furniture from the old house blended perfectly. This wasn’t a sparsely decorated prison often depicted on TV. This house had the possibility to be a home, making Ludwig feel a hell of a lot better.

The kitchen was cozy, with a generous pantry. Both bedrooms were nice. The bathroom was the prize of this building, sparkling with fresh white tile and an easy access tub. Gilbert stood proudly in the living room, pointing to the kitchen. “And beyond there is a sweet backyard. You can have flowers and everything.”

Quietly with care, Matthias corrected where Gilbert was pointing. The albino was now correctly gesturing to the back door, as if he had always been doing so. He had blind confidence in everything he did since they were kids.

“The security system is top notch, and we live a block away. If you have any questions, you can hobble over to our place,” Matthias finished up the tour with flourish.

_ “I do not hobble,” _ Ludwig argued, stubborn about admitting his age.

“We’re all fossils here, Luddie,” Gilbert sassed him. Yawning and stretching, the pale brother looked done for the afternoon. “Well, I’m bushed. I’m going to get blazed watching Iron Chef and take a nap.” Turning 70 this year and half broken from a lifetime of extreme sports, Gilbert was easy to tire.

“Sounds good.” Matthias hauled himself with effort off the soft couch, 73 years old with false knees. They left after, taking all the noise and loud colours with them.

Finally alone in his new dwelling, Ludwig took in the comfort of the environment. Maybe this was a not-terrible idea to live here. Mentally drafting a list of new things to do, Ludwig sat with a pen and paper. There were always things to do, and he was determined to get started.

He fell asleep in his favourite recliner minutes later, pen still sitting in loosely curled fingers.


	6. Chapter 6

Days into his new residence, Ludwig was torn from seclusion. Other people from the retirement villa dropped by with a welcome basket. Peeking through the peephole, Ludwig spotted chocolate covered pretzels. Those were his true weaknesses.

He was doing this for the pretzels.

Ludwig opened the door, bracing for whatever was coming. Having no true friends outside of family, he had no idea how to proceed. “Guten Tag!” he spat out by mistake, saying ‘Good Day’ in the wrong language.  _ Idiot _ .

“Good day to you too!” A balding man greeted right back in German, letting himself in. This guy was tall, with coke bottle thick glasses. His Italian accent was denser than concrete, twisting his fluent German into something humorous. He was familiar to Ludwig, a recent family addition via shotgun wedding.

“Roma! It is rude to go into people’s houses like that!” A slimmer man nagged in English, also entering the home. The luxurious basket was placed on a table by the door. Oh sweet pretzel delights, come hither. “Sorry about Roma, he is very friendly.”

Ludwig just wanted to eat his unhealthy snack basket. “Who are you?”

The two elderly Italians paused the invading of his house to shake hands. The more ridiculous of the two went first. His white hair was holding on by a thread, no more than a ring around the sides. “I am Romulus Vargas, the wrestler of bears, the king of karaoke night, the lord of the community pool, the master of the grill! Did I mention yet, I used to hang out with Dolly Parton?  _ The _ Dolly Parton. I’m a hot commodity around this adventurous villa.” The guy was stuffed full of ego, no matter the situation.

“He is Roma. Just Roma.” The second man teased lightly.

“You slay me. Where is the praise for all my accomplishments?”

Roma was ignored as the other man shook hands. “I’m Feliciano, but people call me Feli.”

“Nice to meet you Feliciano. My name’s Ludwig,” Ludwig conversed politely.

“Leave the man to his pretzels. Rude of you, barging in here,” Roma pushed Feli lightly to the door.

The thinner one resisted, putting a cutesy community flier in Ludwig’s hand. He was warm smiles and a full head of hair. “There’s a puppy social every month, you should come! I heard you liked dogs from Gil. He’s been talking about getting you here for  _ months _ .”

_ Puppy social _ . Ludwig almost dropped his bluff of politeness at the idea. People just sipping tea and playing with puppies. It sounded like heaven on earth already. “I would love to go.”

“I told you Feli, Germans love pretzels. This basket was genius, all my idea,” Roma flattered himself, almost entirely correct. His brusque words were made comical by his cheer and solid Italian-ness. As much as Ludwig wanted to prove the stereotype wrong, he genuinely loved pretzels.

Instead, he led the guests to the door. “Well, I will definitely come to the puppy party this…” Ludwig squinted at the flier. “... this Friday.”

“Wonderful! If you have any lady friends, bring them along. They adore puppies.” Roma bid goodbye, winking on the way out. Feli and Roma conversed in rapid fire Italian with gratuitous hand gestures as they walked away. Curious neighbors, they were.

Closing the door, Ludwig leaned against it. He clutched the cute paper to his chest. This was the first time in years he had been invited out with anyone to do anything fun. The bubbly feeling made him smile.

Days later, Ludwig stood with trepidation before the community hall. It was a colourful building at the heart of the villa, complete with an indoor pool and kitchen. It was a natural gathering place, complete with nice gardens. Elderly of all mobility were still arriving. Used to being ignored in a younger workplace, the lack of age gap was welcome. He was just a regular guy here.

Due to the crushing August heat, the event was mostly inside. It was for the visiting dogs just as much as the humans. Such fluffy creatures had poor heat management. The air conditioning was a welcome breeze as Ludwig entered the building.

Puppies. Dogs. Fur babies were  _ everywhere _ . Ludwig broke into a joyful grin, finding the first chair he could. Seated, he pet each and every dog that came his way. Soon there were two labradors, a few mutts, and a wire haired terrier glued to him for cuddles.

“So, having fun?” Gilbert greeted, sipping iced tea.

Ludwig didn’t care if he was making a scene in front of all the other residents. “I want to adopt them all forever,” He hummed, hugging the old terrier on his lap. It licked his face affectionately.

“I thought you would.”

The brothers smothered more dogs in kisses for about twenty minutes, only interrupted by a few other residents. Several neighbors said hello, including Feli and Mildred. Feli was easily the loudest neighbor, prone to arguing in Italian over the phone with family.

“You really love dogs,” Feli commented, cruising the party like Roma. Unlike Roma, he wasn’t flirting with every human being in the room.

Gilbert laughed obnoxiously, as if he didn’t have four dogs around him. “Lud here is a freak like that.”

“Nothing like you at all, Gilbert!” Feli joked along, hardly a serious man.

A question was burning in Ludwig’s mind for days, but he was too polite to ask it. Now seemed as good a time as any other. “Are you and Romulus brothers?”

Feli had to think about his answer a minute. He then yelled clean across the room. “ROMA! How are we related again?”

The charismatic party host weaved over with an old woman on each arm. The entire time they yelled conversation. “Remember Enzo’s second wedding in Madrid?”

“But he died in that freak accident.”

“After, his twin brother married my sister. But they divorced because of… you know.”

“Oh yes… _That_. That was disgusting.”

“Then my cousin and Marianna were…”

“Oh was that before or after Chaira had her baby?”

“You know, now that I think about it…”

Ten rambling minutes later, both Germans still didn’t know if Feli was related to Roma. Ludwig suspected Feli and Roma didn’t know either. Gilbert spoke up, completely confused. “Are you his cousin or his brother?”

The Italians looked to each other then laughed, slapping each other on the back.  _ “We are family!” _

“I don’t understand!” Ludwig objected, seeking clarity.

The topic was completely ignored. Roma urged on his younger… something with gestures to the door. “Have you seen the gardens, Ludwig? Feli, you must show him. It is so beautiful outside.”

Feli looked to Ludwig in silent question, and the social pressure was real. He sputtered on the spot, not prepared to do anything. He only came for puppies and iced tea.

“Yeah, that sounds awesome.” Gilbert volunteered him without asking yet again.

Ludwig sighed, and stood. This was probably part of some dumb scheme. The grey haired man couldn’t be bothered to figure out what it was. Gilbert was more limited in his mobility these days, always seeking some crazy new way to entertain himself. Perhaps Roma was in on this plan too, equally as spitfire.

Feli went along with things, leading the way. The summer heat was crushing, still less than expectations inside. When removed from Roma’s side, Feli was considerably more calm. It was nice. The Italian chatted rarely as they shuffled about the beautiful roses of the community lot.

For the second time this afternoon, Ludwig was taken by surprise. The singing of cicadas harmonized in the air as Feli took a rose or three from a bush. “Sorry about Roma. He likes to play host.”

Feli being aware of Roma’s giant ego was refreshing. Everyone else was swept into his act like a Riptide, and Ludwig hated the control one man exerted so easily. They were all no better than dogs. Roma was hardly a bad person, but swaying the entire community was uncomfortable.

“My brother is no better,” Ludwig answered curtly, then internally berated himself. He sounded so hostile today.

“Brothers, cousins, removed or not. They are all the same. I remember -- Ouch!” A rose prickled the Italian fiercely as he removed thorns. In surprise, he dropped the flowers.

“I have band-aids,” Ludwig instantly volunteered, forever prepared. Oh foolish Gilbert, saying his fanny pack was uncool and useless.

Rinsing the wound in a drinking fountain, the two old men sat on a bench. “Verdammt, my arthritis.” Ludwig cursed in mixed language, hands shaking too much to get the band-aid on straight. Feli assisted silently with softer hands, slightly shaky himself. Wounds tended to, both men stood.

“All better. Thank you Mr. Bellsher… Beirsh…” Feli struggled with the name valiantly, looking rosy. It was probably the heat.

“Mr. B is fine,” Ludwig offered. With sharp blue eyes, he spotted the abandoned flowers. He picked them up carefully with only little effort, inspecting the red blooms for damage. They seemed fine, so he offered them over. “For you.”

“What?” Feli sputtered slightly, looking rosier.

“You dropped them,” Ludwig clarified bluntly.

“Oh  _ si _ , I did.” Roses accepted, the Italian seemed to decide something after looking at the community hall a few times. “Do you want to walk with me to my house? We live across from each other.”

“Mein gott yes. Too many people at the party,” Relieved to escape, Ludwig took up the offer instantly.

The suburban walk was peaceful, Feli providing sparse conversation. “You’re newly retired, aren’t you?” The Italian was intelligent too.

Caught so quickly! Lud didn’t know he telegraphed his status. “Yes, almost five months.”

“I knew it. You seem restless.”

Ludwig was bored out of his goddamn mind, even after a short vacation to Miami with Gilbert and Matthias. He couldn’t stand not having a job, resorting to dollar store puzzles to occupy his screaming brain. “I am a little bored...” He admitted, hedging around the truth.

Feli smiled brightly, “We should find you something to do sometime. This is my place.”

Ludwig analyzed the home, slightly different than his own box house. It had a wood shingling facade, like some of the older models here. Plants grew rampantly in the yard without order or direction. Flower and herb pots lived in every nook. It was organic chaos and whimsy to the maximum, vines crawling around neglected wood fencing.   
  
Every uneven fence post burned in Ludwig’s eyes like a missile target. The need to restore order flared from just looking at this building. Feli seemed unaware he lived in plant madness, shuffling up a crumbling stone path to his door.

“Don’t be a stranger Mr. B. There is plenty to do at my house if you get bored.” Feli bid goodbye sweetly, looking mysteriously pleased.

Ludwig barely noticed, distracted by the visual challenge before him. That fence post being seven degrees crooked to the right was going to drive him crazy. “Danke. Have a good day.” He answered absently, thoughts consumed.

_ The post was seven degrees crooked to the right _ .


	7. Chapter 7

Lorenzo had been caught off guard twice today. First Leanne stuck him with baby duty. She ran off to the restaurant to run things today, practically leaving a trail of dust behind her. Second, baby Louise had projectile vomited all over one of his favorite shirts. 

Belittled to regular peasant clothes, Lorenzo had a great plan. He was going to dump the baby duty on reliable old Mr. B. Barring that, there was great Uncle Feli, or that moron Gilbert. He was surprisingly good with kids despite sharing a brain cell with his husband.   
  
The plan was simple. Step one, dump off baby. Step two, find a great bar. Step three, enjoy the fruits of freedom. Step one would soon commence, as Lorenzo parked in front of Mr. B’s house. Curiously, Mr. B was laboring in the late August sun across the street. He was sanding great uncle Feli’s garden fence. The perimeter was entirely repaired and clean.

Great uncle Feli was chatting away, seated in a folding chair beside the elderly worker. “Lorenzo! Roma’s little bambino came to visit me?” The friendly relative greeted loudly, sipping an icy beverage.

"Don't... I just..." the Italian father began, wearing the baby sling of doom. "Long morning. Way too long.  _ Ca-- _ I mean, Louise here threw up on my nice shirt." There was a clear look of exhaustion on his face.

Lazily, Feli gestured for Lorenzo to come closer. Mr. B finally noticed, grunting as a greeting. Cold blue eyes sized up the father like they always had. Lorenzo wasn’t sure where he stood with the strict grandfather most days. It had been Mr. B that discovered Leanne was pregnant. Mr. B had personally hunted down Lorenzo and forced him to take responsibility.

Who knew a 65 year old man could be so…  _ murderous _ .

Cringing visibly at that cold glare, Lorenzo quickly hurried over to the beckoning relative. Mr. B, truly a madman, was repairing his great uncle's fence! It was an utter nightmare.

"I need... I need your help," he pleaded, gesturing to the baby sling. The child was currently sleeping, but peace probably wouldn’t last. Louise was horribly finicky about everything most days.

Feli eagerly took the baby, waking it in the process. Louise blinked in confusion, face to face with the old Italian. “Hello little bambina. Who loves you? Old Feli does!”

The baby burst into yowling cries, kicking and squirming weakly in her purple onesie. “Oh god why?” Lorenzo cursed. He entirely sucked at soothing his chaotic offspring, ready to fall apart. Two weeks without solid sleep would destroy anyone in his position.

“I didn’t do anything!” Feli backpedaled, equally clueless with the baby at arm’s length.

With a sigh, Mr. B stood painfully and took the baby into his arms. Still the child cried like a siren. With a grunt, he plucked a strawberry from Feli’s garden. She quieted, dazzled by the fruit. Gripping it weakly, she started gumming the thing to her content. “It’s not complicated.” Ludwig chided in very German manner.

A change of topic was welcome over being reminded of Lorenzo’s failings again. “Aren’t you supposed to be retired? Why are you fixing a fence?” The father asked, deflecting potential bullshit.

The German was delighted to talk about his latest project, his entire mood improving. “Well, this first post was 7 degrees crooked to the right. All of the posts were crooked. So I straightened all that up, then one post needed to be replaced…”

Mr. B went on in great detail, proud of his efforts. All the while baby Louise tortured her strawberry. Finally, he leaned against one of the posts he just fixed. He was done for the day, low on energy. He hadn’t even noticed until he stopped his extensive work. “... I think I’m tired,” He mumbled.

“At least you got Ludwig to stop. I offered iced tea, but he didn’t even notice.” Feli retreated to his shady porch.

“Sorry, I was distracted,” Ludwig replied honestly. His awareness could be considered narrow when he was invested in a project.

The workhorse of a grandfather stalled and died on Feli’s porch. He was almost mad he had faltered at all. In his youth he would already be finished the fence. Hell, he would have planned out what to do with the crumbling stone walkway.

Today he settled for recharging with his granddaughter. He couldn’t be more proud of Louise, grateful she had such a german name. If she loved dogs, it would make the daughter a real package deal. Beauty, smarts, dogs, and such green eyes. Emeralds practically, Ludwig could see the green taking over where the baby blue once was.

“So could you guys watch her for a few hours?” Lorenzo asked.

“I don’t mind at all.” Feli agreed. Mr. B shrugged and nursed his icy beverage in summer shade.

The father loosened in relief. “Thank you both so much. I’m going to use the bathroom, then get out of here.” Lorenzo entered feli’s house of chaos.

The quiet was nice as the two men watched the garden. Ten minutes passed, then five more. “I think he died in the bathroom.” Ludwig attempted a joke, not used to such social manoeuvres.

Feli snorted a little, having to put his drink down. “Luddie, you did not say you were so funny!”

“I… I try.” The german replied humbly. A dry beginning of a smile formed at the spontaneous new nickname.

“I’m going to check on Lorenzo. You want anything from the kitchen?” Feli offered kindly.

“I couldn’t.”

Feli was more stubborn than he let on. “I insist. You fixed my fence. I can at least offer you some homemade Angenetti!” It was true there was a fresh batch in his fridge, a lemony frosted treat that toed the line between cookie and cake.

“I suppose I can try something.” Mr. B relented, looking at the baby in his arms shyly.

Victorious, Feli went inside. His home was that of an artist. He saw no problem with paint splatters, half constructed scrap books, and other projects hanging around. Life was rampant change and people had to embrace it. Before Ludwig fixed the fence, Feli was planning to paint whimsical owls from all the holes and rotted spots.

Lorenzo never made it past the patched up couch. He was passed out cold in drooling sleep, hugging a bedazzled throw pillow. Tucking a blanket around Roma’s sleeping son, Feli smiled. The little guy was all tuckered out, just like when Feli used to babysit him.

Feli passed the three roses from last week, still in their vase. It had only been seven days since proper introductions, but the lonely Italian was certain Ludwig’s flowers meant something. Forever a romantic, the grey haired man knew all the gestures and woos. He used to be an adept player like Romulus, but matured after having his own heart broken.

Love was not a game to be won, and these wilting roses meant… something. Feli was sure of it. Now all he had to do was butter up Mr. B and see if romance was alight. Why else would a guy fix a fence for free?

He returned with soft pastry delights on a plate. Mr. B’s eyes tracked the cookies, hunger betraying him. He graciously took one, sinking a bite into the beige puff. Sounds of culinary satisfaction followed, as Feli expected they would.

“Ooo these are wonderful. Thank you so much.” Several vanished, as the German truly smiled back. It was a lovely thing to see, after so many faces of cold stone.

Feli smiled, secretly scheming. Oh, there was something going on here. He was going to harness whatever it was. Ludwig just didn’t know it yet.


	8. Chapter 8

Ludwig was starved for company two months into living at the villa. It was nothing like the empty death that stifled him when he was still in the old home. The isolation was bearable, but hardly fun. To combat this condition, Ludwig was hanging out with his older brother.

Having destroyed his joints with extreme sports in years prior, Gilbert was rather tame these days. His most “awesome” adventures consisted of darts, bragging, questionable kinky sex with Matthias, and water fitness at the pool. Today it was watching a documentary about animals. In particular, lions were being shown.

“EAT THE DEER LOOKING THING! DO IT!” Gilbert yelled at the TV screen, wearing his thick glasses. The lion on the screen pounced, trapping and killing the water buffalo. Gilbert whooped and cheered.

“DID THE LION WIN!?” Matthias yelled from the bathroom. Almost crippled, Gilbert’s husband took an age in there.

“He sure did babe!”

“Cool! I hoped the lion would win!” The sounds of sanitation came from the bathroom, then a squeal of hinges. Matthias shuffled over curiously via cane, loosely dressed in fire pattern sleeping clothes. His crimes of fashion had only intensified with age. “Ooo puzzles.” 

Ludwig chuckled at their antics as he did a puzzle of puppies at the kitchen table. He really wanted to visit Feli’s house instead, but exercised restraint. He had already been over twice this week with flimsy reasons. The cautious German didn’t want to push his luck and alienate the kind neighbor.

“So, how’s Mr. Lone wolf these days? I barely see you at the socials.” Gilbert chatted, getting cheese powder all over as he ate corn chips.

“I never miss the puppy socials.” Ludwig was quick to argue his case.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. But there’s water fitness class, and all kinds of things. Feli used to run an art class until last year. I don’t know why he stopped.”

“Oh you know why.” Matthias teased, following up with a terrible Latino impression. “I am Fabio. Ooh la la, look at me. I raise the bar to impossible standards at parties.”

“Oh hell, Fabio.” Gilbert snorted derisively.

“What did Fabio do?” Ludwig asked, not really listening. He was still looking for a puppy nose piece.

“Only look good all the time, insanely fit. I had zero game with Fabio around. Zero. This is Gilbert the amazing, and I was a wet sock at parties.”

Matthias too complained. “Pretty enough to make you forget your own name. It wasn’t fair.”

“Even how he died was ridiculous. He had a stroke on horseback, during a romantic sunset. You can’t even… It’s unfair is all. Feli was devastated.” As Gilbert went on, Ludwig’s attention went from minimum to full.

“What? Why?” He spoke up, puzzle abandoned.

“Fabio and Feli were a thing. A big thing. They started dating for three months then poof!” Gilbert clarified, wiggling fingers in dramatic jazz hands. “Dead on a romantic beach.”

“He died in front of Feli?” Ludwig couldn’t even imagine the horror of such an event.

Matthias shrugged, starting to pick at the puppy puzzle. “He never talks about it much. He’s a pretty secretive guy.”

This news took Ludwig back. The Italian neighbor had been nothing but chatter, family stories, and kindness.

“Maybe I’ll ask him about it later.” Ludwig spoke softly, almost to himself. His gut felt weird and he wasn’t certain why. There was silence, prickling for once under Ludwig's skin. Gilbert was browsing the TV menu, oblivious to his little brother’s mental distress.

“Gilbert?” Ludwig finally spoke, a different kind of nervousness fluttering in his body. It was one he couldn’t remember in years upon years.

“Yes?”

“Is it weird to get flowers for a house?” Matthias and Gilbert looked at Ludwig as he spoke the innocent question.

“I don’t see why not. Getting flowers for a flower holder is perfectly practical.” Gilbert assured him in a very pragmatic fashion. “Is it to decorate your boring house?”

Hearing this confirmation, the younger brother relaxed. His impulse buy of a dozen flowers seemed healthy enough, now that it was given context. “No. It was to decorate someone else’s house.”

“Well see, that just being nice.” The older brother went on, oh so certain of himself. Matthias sniggered, struggling to remain silent. “I see you have an opinion, Mr. Handsome.”

“Well I am pretty good looking. But yes.” The older man looked between the two clueless Germans with tented fingers. “Wouldn’t other people confuse flowers for some sort of message?”

Both the brothers broke into amused smiles, absolutely dismissive. Gilbert scoffed, “When have bundles of non-edible plants ever meant anything?”

“Ja, that’s just crazy.” Ludwig chipped in, returning to his puzzle.

* * *

Feliciano admired the wildflower bouquet in it’s clay vase. Ludwig had randomly dropped it off this morning, looking more than a little rosy. Words failing him, the guy left before he could properly explain himself. The romantic Italian didn’t need paltry words to explain the situation.

Instead he grinned like a fool. Romulus let himself in like one does, energy and age sedated enthusiasm. “Feliciano, Oh Feliciano!” He sang in greeting, cane dependent. Last night’s private orgy must have been particularly wild.

“Roma you beast!” Feli greeted, giving his former cousin and brother-in-law a hug.

“You should have come to the party! Mildred and Bernie were fantastic.” Roma parted the gesture with italian cheek kisses, setting on the couch.

“I have plans, Roma.” Feli resumed admiring his flowers and scheming romantic things.

Forever curious, Roma could never help himself. “What are you up to? Where did the flowers come from? No secrets between family, Feli!”

Unable to suppress glee, Feli wiggled a little before whispering the news. “Ludwig brought them to me.”

Italian squeals of drama and delight filled the house a moment. Both men were true romantics, with Roma more impulsive than most. He had a trail of short lived marriages and exotic lovers going back five decades. “This must be true love!” The older man sang.

Feli hushed him, keen for the neighbors not to catch details. “No yelling it, I can’t spook Ludwig. He’s very shy. I haven’t wanted anything so badly since…”

“ _ Fabio. _ ” Both men sighed dreamily and swooned. “So handsome and sweet.”

Rome chipped last minute, knowing the dead man longer. “Very good in bed. The things he could do with his tongue.” They both hummed in agreement.

“Even if he looked handsome, Fabio was a wildcard. Ludwig is reliable and kind. He never talks about anything though.” Feli didn’t want to mention his physical attraction either, unwilling to have it scrutinized. It was true, Ludwig had not aged gracefully like Roma or Feli. He definitely looked older than his true age, still needs flared. Feliciano couldn’t help but think his latest romance target was dignified and proud. Ludwig was a grey lion that still bore sharp claws. That was pretty hot to a sixty six year old Feli.

“That is so typically German of him.” Roma huffed, rather knowledgeable about a lot of things. He used to be a history professor in Rome and Berlin. Paired with years of world travel, he was a living fountain of knowledge. The trick was filtering his Italian love of drama from the truth.

Fact of the matter was that Feliciano had lived in Rome as a tourism guide most of his life. He didn’t know much about other cultures outside of middle class travelers. “How Roma? Please tell me?” Feli asked, so very curious.

“Germans love potatoes, and pretzels, and they ruin everything with sauerkraut.” Roma began listing all his worldly knowledge on the culture. Feliciano cringed, already knowing these dire facts. He saw the otherwise lovely Ludwig heap the pickled cabbage product on braised chicken. Plain potatoes were then savagely smashed to mush by stabbing them repeatedly like an animal.

“Mustard. Mustard on everything. It’s disgusting,” Roma went on, a picky eater like his many children.

“About the  _ people _ Roma, not the food.”

Forced to focus, Roma accepted a glass of Feli’s homemade red wine, six years vintage. The two sipped the ruby liquid as they sat. He cleared his throat, breaching the topic that puzzled Feli the most. “Germans in love are… The best thing I can think of is, backwards Italians.”

Feliciano cocked his head, confused. “That makes no sense.”

Roma took a gracious ‘sip’ of wine, struggling with his words for once. “They are opposites… Would you consider fixing a cabinet door an act of love?”

“No Roma, that’s insane. I would pay a worker to fix it,” Feli objected, topping up the other man’s glass.

“Some Germans, or at least yours would. Think about Gilbert, how he wooed his husband,” Roma pressed on, making no sense again.

Feli smiled, delighted to converse of love. “Oh he fixed a ceiling fan then unclogged the bathtub.”

“See?” Roma gestured broadly at the room, trying to express the obvious. The coffee table no longer wobbled, door hinges were greased, and Feli’s garden fence was now immaculate and painted.

“Oh Luddie just did that stuff for free because he’s so…” Feli almost dropped his wine glass in revelation, catching it last minute. Setting it down, he slapped two hands to his own face. Ludwig treated no one else in the villa so sweetly. “Roma, he really likes me! He even leveled one of my shelves!”

“It’s insane, but it’s what they do!”

Both Italians were full volume again, forgetting to keep the conversation secretive. Feliciano couldn’t grasp that these things were signs of love. He had assumed until now Ludwig was OCD or needed things to occupy himself. “But what are the stages? How can I tell how much he cares? Should I ask him?”

At this Roma, took another sip. “The absolute worst thing you can do! You know how much I scored when I was first sent to Berlin?”

“Oh dozens, I’m sure.” Feli expected bragging and the usual nonsense.

“Nothing. None. I had zero loving when I first arrived. Talking about your feelings is a huge no there. Touching. Flirty kisses. Not a single local girl would consider it. I had to learn their ways, their strange secrets.” 

At this, Feli transferred to the couch. He gripped Roma’s arm in need, eyes begging. “Tell me. Tell me all the ways to a German’s heart.” This knowledge had to be learned and utilized immediately!

Roma grinned. “First. We’ll need a bag of potatoes.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ludwig was excited as he puttered around his home. There were lots of developments in his life lately. His various legal progeny were actually visiting like they promised they would. Granted he was a babysitter source and house watcher at best.

It felt so good to be needed occasionally.

Beyond this, Ludwig was adjusted to retirement. Several months ago he was miserable and directionless, without friendships to light his way. Now the retired man reluctantly went to bingo games, swimming pool fitness, and charity events with his neighbors. Stated in the simplest terms, the German-Canadian wasn’t lonely anymore.

Now there was a new surprise in Ludwig’s kitchen. He was currently peeling potatoes, humming songs from his youth. These were not just  _ any _ potatoes. These root crops were brought in from Prince Edward Island, ruby red treasures pulled from the earth. They had superior taste, scaled only by their price.

A truly cheap man, Ludwig rarely purchased these. Instead, the beloved brand of potatoes had been gifted to him. Feliciano of all people gave it to him as thanks for mending the fence. On top of all this, a short and sincere compliment was delivered. There was no Italian dramatics, volume, or sass.

“Thank you for your hard work, Ludwig.”

That was all there was to it as the bag of prized potatoes was handed over. The strange encounter at the end of the driveway was mystifying. It was a lightning strike of realization, a miracle of thought. There was something Ludwig never thought he would feel again after his soul was crushed over forty years ago.

Ludwig had feelings for Feliciano and he couldn’t deny it in the least. Logic and reason no longer held sway when he looked to that friendly face. Mostly, he smiled like a fool and forgot what to say. It was a deep affection he thought he would never experience again.

He should be scared.

The last time he had feelings of this nature, he was nearly crushed by the aftermath. It was a time of devastation, right when he was in the middle of paperwork for adoptions. His marriage to Monika snapped like dry twigs. There were problems before that point, to be sure. Ludwig had been so blind to them. He really believed he would be with his highschool sweetheart until the grave.

The only thing that died was the ability to desire another. Even this was wrong, hope now burning in his chest. It was a faint flame, wavering and uncertain. The fact that Ludwig was attracted to another man was shocking. Feeling attraction at all was puzzling. He honestly didn’t know how to deal with it.

Instead, he was smiling like an idiot and making mashed potatoes. Mashed potatoes were comfort and familiarity. This was a task he could put all of his energy and mental strength into. Peeling the potatoes, he sliced starchy white innards into thinner slices for even cooking. Putting all of this in water, he started boiling and looked out the window.

_ Maybe Feliciano would enjoy these mashed potatoes. _

Pervasive gay thoughts kept popping up like nosy little mice. They ruffled through Ludwig’s head, distracting his ironclad attention and drive.  _ Not today, gay thoughts! _ He was very consumed with making a delicious side dish, and it would taste magnificent.

_ Maybe Feliciano could grill a nice steak to go with this for a dinner date. _

Ludwig was so consumed with fighting off internal conflict that reality made him startle. The front door was knocked loudly, jolting him. Calming his heart with a few breaths, he approached the front door. The only person ballsy and loud enough to do this was Gilbert.

“Let me in! Lars found this totally awesome instant spaghetti!” Yeah, it was Gilbert alright. Of course, Gilbert let himself in. Naturally, he was wearing his “Chicks Dig Me” shirt patterned with baby chickens. The delight in all of this was seeing Laurence behind him with his guide dog Maxine.

Lars didn't understand why he got roped over to visit. His face was set in a permanent scowl. Of course, accompanying him was the blessed black lab, wagging her tail. He could only glare daggers into the back of Uncle Gilbert's head.

Gilbert and Lars were taken by surprise, greeted with hugs. Mr. B didn’t generally hug or touch people, so this was equal shock for both of them. He was also smiling, like a regular person. This was  _ not _ regular at all. What the hell was going on?

Lars could only stare in silent incredulity at the  _ affection  _ that Ludwig was showering them with. He was in a nightmare or he had entered a parallel dimension. Looking to cool Uncle Gilbert in silent question, he raised his eyebrows in inquiry before making a few simple gestures at the other German.

“Are you ok?” Gilbert asked slowly, reaching for a whiteboard by the door. He wrote ‘IDK. asking.’ on it for Lars.

“I don’t know. I’m making mashed potatoes,” Ludwig replied honestly, lost for description of his condition.

‘He’s crazy’ Gilbert wrote next. Ludwig frowned, returning to his food prep.

“I knew it,” Lars quipped, volume control sporadic at best. He crash landed more than sat down, hogging the ergonomic lounger. Maxine wagged her entire happy black body as Lars fiddled with her service harness. Freed of her “work” vest, the friendly creature bounded off to both Germans for wet nose boops and petting.

“I’m not crazy. I’m… I’m making mashed potatoes,” Ludwig stubbornly repeated himself. After giving the friendly guide dog a pat, he resumed cooking. The dog swamped Gilbert next, so very happy.

Gilbert scrawled ‘He’s emotional cooking’ on the whiteboard. The dog was then drowned in the albino’s love via belly rubs.

The look on Lars’s face said it all. He was fucking  _ terrified  _ of what was happening with Mr. B., whatever this was. It was… highly unusual. Unnatural. Strange. Weird. He knew that the younger German parental figure sucked at emotional displays, but… what was going on?! Why was the normally ice-cold Ludwig acting like this?!

Gilbert as always, rescued the social scene. “Our little bratwurst found instant spaghetti! Instant right now spaghetti! Isn’t that awesome?”

Ludwig rolled his eyes. “There is no such thing as instant spaghetti,” If there was, Feliciano would probably have opinions about that.

“His fancy ramen food blog featured it. You have to try some!” Gilbert would not relent. Sure enough, after Ludwig was finished his food prep, they all dined on flavoured ramen. It was actually pretty good.

Lars felt like he could gloat now. The insanity of him trying out all these ramen variations had led him down the path of so many discoveries, and the spaghetti ‘ramen’ was one of the more recent flavors he had found. He was stockpiling it like a madman possessed. Lars stole looks across the table, watching as the two parental figures dined on the insanity he had found. It was really tasty, to be fair.

The feast would have continued uninterrupted if all Ludwig’s neighbours didn’t treat his house like a local tavern. Feli let himself in, greeting the dog that let out a deep bark. “Hello puppy! Did Luddie steal you?”

Gilbert sniggered, “Luddie.” The younger brother was too distracted to care about being teased. Mostly he struggled to not look like an idiot. Ludwig was failing, blushing and uncertain where to put his eyes.

Even though Lars couldn’t hear what they were talking about, he did notice that Ludwig’s face was now turning… what?  _ What the absolute hell?! _

Since when did Mr. B. know how to blush?! Was this the end of the world?! Alarmed, he grabbed the white board and scrawled on it, ‘Am I seeing this right, he’s blushing?!’ before shoving it in Gilbert’s direction, a stunned look on his face.

Gilbert didn’t know what to make of it either. He wasn’t sure if that crazy Italian’s plan for pairing Feli with his brother was working at all. Maybe Ludwig had a fever because he was sick? Feli grabbed the white board, writing ‘Hello, you must be Laurence. I’m Feli.’ His writing was chaos and lots of swoops. Having seen plenty of signatures as an accountant, this was not a new discovery to Lars.

‘I prefer to be called Lars, but why is Mr. B blushing? He’s normally not like that. He  _ never _ shows emotion. Ask his brother,’ he scrawled back. He was thankful he could read messy handwriting as he passed the white board back to the person who owned the loopy scratches.

“Maybe it’s hot in here.” Feli wrote and spoke more or less in tandem.

“Yes! A fever! That’s what it could be.” Ludwig agreed instantly, grasping for any logical reason at all.

“Oh, I have herbs at home for fever!” Feli crooned, happy to help.

“No-it’s-okay-I’m-fine.” Ludwig blurted one panicked sentence as a word, far from okay.

Gilbert sat there a long minute, absorbing the reactions. He was pretty dim some days, but not today! His eyes went wide in realization. ‘My brother is--’ the rest of the sentence was scribbled out mid formation. It was corrected to ‘He’s not sick’.

Feli looked at the bowl of instant spaghetti Ludwig was working on. “What’s this?” He gestured clear enough at the food in question.

This time it was Lars who chose to answer. Reaching for the white board, he erased the words on it before scribbling down as fast as he could, ‘Try it, it’s spaghetti,’ before passing it to the Italian.

Tentatively the elder twirled the fork around and popped a bite worth in his mouth. There was a myriad of feelings about the kitchen creation. Barely anyone else was capable of knowing it, with the emotional IQ of bricks. The spaghetti was set down slowly on the coffee table. “What is that?” Feliciano asked and wrote.

‘That’s spaghetti,’ Lars wrote back, reaching for the bowl that had been placed on the coffee table and looking at the Italian like he was out of his mind. ‘Is something wrong with it?’ he scribbled a few moments later, eyebrows raised in question.

‘Where did it come from?’ the question was asked with deadly seriousness only to Lars.

‘I can’t reveal my secret,’ he scribbled back before looking at uncle Gilbert dangerously. There was a very high chance he was going to get his cover blown.

“What is this?” Feli ordered to the room in general, not terribly scary.

“Instant spaghetti! It’s awesome.” Gilbert informed him cheerfully, unaware the other was upset.

“Instant… Instant spaghetti? Spaghetti isn’t…” With a twitch of a facial expression, Feli marched out and closed the door once more.

‘What’s got him upset?’ Lars scratched down on the white board, passing it to the albino uncle. He was busy destroying the remainder of the spaghetti, because it was such a waste to leave it unfinished.

‘Not sure. It’s pretty good.’ Gilbert replied. The family resumed eating in peace, adoring dog eyes begging for food below knee level.

* * *

“INSTANT SPAGHETTI, ROMA! INSTANT! As if thousands of years of culinary genius can be summarized to a noodle cup!” Feliciano was in a cooking fury, raving in Italian as he assembled the best spaghetti this side of the continent. It was a family recipe for the most part.

Romulus sat in a kitchen chair, concerned. Feli never grew angry with anyone about anything. This fabled instant spaghetti seemed to trip his only nerve. “I’m sure it’s not instant. The sauce was probably store bought…”

“Like that’s supposed to make me feel better!” the younger one complained. “They are  _ savages _ with food, just like you said. I need to show Ludwig what real spaghetti is before he dies of his own food poisoning!”

Roma’s brown eyes darkened in evil planning. “So it’s a dinner date.”

Feli stopped in his tracks, shocked at the accusation. “It’s not like that!”

“But isn’t it?” Roma’s phone was whipped out, ready to text the good news.

“Roma, no! Put down the phone! I swear if you tell people!” As Feli wrestled Roma for control of the phone, the immature teasing continued.

“Ludwig and Feli on a dinner date! I’ll tell everyone to prepare for your wedding!” Roma sang, holding the device slightly out of reach.

“Stop it!” Feli whined. Twice removed brother-in-laws were the worst


	10. Chapter 10

Ludwig was a fool. He was a lovesick fool with only himself to blame for this situation. He was trapped mentally in feelings he hadn’t touched for decades. Battling with arthritis for years, he was trapped by his own body. It hurt too much to move, to live the life he wanted.

He had seen his own dad suffer much this way. The parental figure had died in agony, inflamed and sick to his core. Who was Ludwig to think he would escape the fate of his hard ass father? Who was he to think he could escape his own genetics?

Bedridden for hours in the dark, Ludwig had long finished crying his eyes out. A few tears were shed when he could spare them. Honestly, he was in a lot of agony and feeling very dry. The things he would do for a glass of water right now were embarrassing.

The phone rang a room over for the third time today. It might as well be a world away, lost to his grasp. Hoarse from shouting and thirsty, he huffed a few breaths of dry disbelief. Was he going to die this way? It had been 12 hours now since he last ate. The urge to piss was thankfully not present yet.

This was it, dying of hunger while trapped by arthritis pain. How pathetic. How  _ weak _ . Things only became worse, dropping to nightmare levels. The click of the front door softly announced an intruder minutes later. The absolute worst of Ludwig’s imagination cooked up what would happen next.

Burglars taking what little he possessed. Thieves harming him. Drug addled punks taking advantage of his pain locked body. This was it, Ludwig was completely fucked. He silenced his already shallow breaths, invisibility his only survival.

“Luddie? Are you here?” Feli’s voice cut through the silence, bringing relief to a miserable soul.

“I’m… I’m in here.” Ludwig croaked softly. He was thankful to God, Satan, or any being at all for sending the Italian his way.

The door opened slowly, sharp light cutting through darkness. Ludwig could only close his eyes, unable to move without lighting torture.

A softer lamp light was clicked on, a concerned Feli kneeling with effort. Soft brown eyes met Ludwig’s reddened tear blue. “You weren’t answering your phone… I thought… I didn’t know you were hurt. Are you hurt?” The Italian fussed over him delicately, scared to touch.

“Rheumatoid Arthritis. It’s not contagious,” Ludwig shushed him softly, chuckling.

Sweet Italian nonsense pooled from Feli as he dug around the bedroom for medication to help. “Don’t you have pills to help with this?” He finally asked.

It hurt to shake his head, so Ludwig didn’t. “No. I’ve been dealing with it for years with almost no medication.”

“You have rheumatoid arthritis and you fixed my garden fence?  _ You are mad! _ ” the other argued, now rifling around for anything useful.

“The… The post was crooked. It had to be fixed,” Ludwig wheezed, feeling dry and weak.

“How long have you been stuck like this?” Feli anxiously bled more words, only pausing when he found two small white containers. They once held the magic medical cream Gilbert gifted him months ago. There wasn’t even a droplet, a single smear left in either. Ludwig was almost paralyzed without the stuff, but had no clue how to obtain more. He ran out three days ago, losing mobility last night.

“How do you have these?” Feli asked slowly, clearly knowing what it was. He looked guilty about their existence.

“My brother gave it after my knees seized up. It’s the only medication that works.” Ludwig explained himself patiently, happy not to be trapped alone.

“Gilbert is… I don’t know how to say it, Luddie.  _ I’m not a good law abiding person, _ ” Feli whispered, inching closer to hide the truth from the very walls.

Ludwig squinted in blatant disbelief. “That is impossible.”

Sitting beside the crippled man, Feli looked anywhere else with tense fingers. “I’m a drug dealer, Luddie. I sell illegal pot. This is one of my products.”

The German couldn’t imagine it. Sweet kind Feli was a nice friendly neighbor. Drug dealers were scary youngsters featured on the evening drama of the day. These two images refused to mesh in his brain. “Drug dealers are bad people. You’re not a bad person, so you can’t be a drug dealer,” Ludwig countered.

“I have two boxes of this in my cellar. I make it every year,” Feli insisted, stubborn about his fantasy.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. Looking rather steamed, Feli stood. “I do! I’m very good at it! I’ll get some to prove it.”

Desperation was impossible to mask in Ludwigs voice, small and broken.  _ “Don’t leave me here.” _

“I’ll be right back. I promise.” With this last assurance, the Italian left. It was the longest five minutes of Ludwig’s life. Now he fully understand the terror dogs felt when masters or friends went away. Where did Ludwig’s human go? Did Feli die on the way there? This was it, wasn’t it. This was the end of --

Feli returned jubilant, a fresh container of medical cream in hand. “See? Sativa 40% with Aloe. I’m the only person that makes this. It’s very expensive.”

Ludwig breathed a sigh of relief. The fresh container was placed in his aching hands, a futile gesture. If combing his hair had made him cry from pain, applying cream was not happening. Blushing richly, Ludwig mumbled something shyly in German.

“What?” Feliciano spoke up, mildly aware his companion was immobile.

The words were difficult to summon, but not impossible for a proud German. “You have to apply some of it. The cream stuff. The aloe, I mean, um. I can’t move much.”

Hushed, Feli recognized brazen vulnerability at its most horrible. “Are you sure? I don’t want to invade your personal space.”

The stranded Ludwig looked over, swallowing nervously. “I trust you. It’s okay.” His words were porcelain, ready to be smashed to pieces by the slightest sneer. Instead, his warbling heart and words were addressed with care.

Warm hands ran softly over Ludwig’s own gnarled joints. Small dabs of the pain relief products tingled on his joints as they were applied tenderly. Not another word was uttered in this sensitive time, the moment warm with importance. Swirls of thumb pads on aching wrists. The trace of an index finger over bony shoulders. Firm massages blessed tired muscles laced with drug based magic. It warmed Ludwig in all ways, making his soul purr. He felt...  _ cherished _ .

Finally able to move his upper body, he was handed a glass of water. Ludwig chugged it gratefully, quenched after hours of biological wanting. He set the glass down on the nightstand, looking to his salvation with joy. It was more than joy. Ludwig didn’t know what he felt in this time, gazing upwards with unfiltered adoration.

A kind expression met his, Feli looking very rosy himself. “Do you feel better?” the Italian asked sweetly.

The last line, the last control in Ludwig’s constructed life, was crossed. Heart pattering, The German nodded and kissed the hands that saved him. They were chaste motions, powerful yet small.

Bubbly from delight, Feli giggled as he was pulled down. “Luddie! That tickles!” He squealed, reveling in the attention. It was true, Ludwig was drunk on emotions once deceased. He had no idea what he was doing, peppering his sweet Italian with kisses. He was blind and ridiculous, feeling completely loose.

If this was insanity, it was welcome back forever. “Feli… I think I like you very much,” Ludwig admitted, holding Feli close. He nuzzled that wavy grey hair, taking in warm scents of an Italian home.

“I like you too,” Feli whispered, facing his happy German. Wiggling a little to adjust, he kissed the other proper. It was good in all the ways a kiss could  _ be _ good, if slightly sloppy. That was fine. They could practice a bit more… and one more.

Neither man managed to stumble out of the house the rest of the day.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the third of October and Ludwig’s birthday. All the family had decided to spoil Ludwig in celebration. It was seven months since he retired, and five months since he first moved to the retirement villa. The family pillar had recovered from crying himself to sleep alone, once more possessing purpose.

He volunteered with socializing dogs beside Claude. Ludwig watched his grandchildren weekly. He was gradually edging his way into party planning committees when Roma was tired or busy. Long story short, he was a new and happier man in retirement.

That  _ had _ to be the source of how pleased he was. Why else would the father figure be smiling so much? He rarely smiled or laughed before. Lars had been dragged along at first, still gravely unhappy. He didn’t care if it was the old man’s birthday.

For once, Maxine the guide dog was absent. The silly dog went and ate a computer mouse over the weekend, currently getting it extracted. With Matthew on stand by at the vet’s office, Lars had to be here.  _ Dragged _ here was more accurate.

The lot approached the house, expecting the front door to be unlocked. It usually was, since there was a neighborhood watch and appointed guard for the vulnerable gated community. Ivan, Claude, and Leanne faltered at the porch steps, but Lars pressed on.

He fucking hated visiting Mr. B in this death villa. The sooner this deed was done, the better. A flash of hurried sign language from Ivan caught his attention. ‘There’s weird noises inside. Maybe we should come back later?’

“I was not dragged out of bed to not do this. Move, you idiots!” Lars cursed in wavering volumes, uncaring if he sounded horrible. He wasn’t supposed to be here as it was, so everyone suffered with him.

Collectively carrying the presents, the family group approached the porch. The door was locked, so Lars carelessly whipped out his keys. Leaning on his cane heavily, the salty son began unlocking the door. It slid open without trouble revealing the worst thing in the world.

Ivan dropped his present and threw up in the beautiful flower bushes. Claude covered his eyes and balled up on the spot. Leanne also threw up in the bushes. Uncle Gilbert cheered, like an idiot. Lars recoiled in horror, relieved he had nothing to vomit.   
  
The entire family had just walked in on Mr. B getting oral sex from Feliciano, his Italian neighbor.

**THE END**


End file.
